Above the treeline, I'm ready to see stout, stubborn little herbs and gorgeous little wildflowers. I look for a rosy finch and yellow-bellied marmot. And, if I'm really lucky, I see pika and hear its shrill objections over my presence.
But I haven't been above 11,000 feet after such a big winter since 1995. I'm not sure what I will see next week next week when I tour the alpine after a monster winter in the Sierra.
My memory of Mount Whitney in 1995 is filled with extraordinary sights -- deep snow fields, swelling tarns and more water in this arid alpine wilderness than I had seen before. And it was in late August, not June or July. I was astounded by the amount of water I saw.
But there were lots of people around. Whitney is a freeway, crowded and crazy. I was in a hurry, on a deadline for a story I was writing.
Not next week. Next week, I'm heading to a quiet Dusy Basin at the crest of the Sierra Nevada in Kings Canyon National Park. I'll get a good, up-close look at a piece of the Kings River watershed that most people don't see. And I won't be distracted by a steady stream of tourists or a short deadline, though it won't take a long time to write this story.
I'm planning a full description in story form, along with photographs. Right here on this blog. I'm not writing this for any publication.
If you're interested in water and California, I think you will like it.
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